Chapter 66: Our Lawyer Wen Is Jealous, Isn’t He?

The atmosphere shifted instantly. Qiao Weiwei regretted her decision deeply; she should never have brought along this married man, whose sole intention was to interfere in someone else's relationship. "Well... we've eaten enough, and it's getting late. We should be heading out. Honey's injured and needs to rest early," she said.

"Miss Song, surely you won’t be so cruel as to reject me?" Qiao Yudong laid his intentions bare, so bluntly that Qiao Weiwei wanted to rush over and cover his mouth. Before she could act, his relentless tongue spat out another line: "Lawyer Wen, so eager to speak on behalf of President Song, aren’t you afraid she’ll feel overwhelmed?"

Qiao Weiwei was utterly stunned. She'd seen shameless people, but never anyone so shameless—especially when that person was her own brother, whom she herself had brought!

"Song Mi, you are Qiao Weiwei’s savior," Qiao Yudong said, "It’s a little late to express our gratitude, but—" He raised his glass of champagne. "On behalf of our entire family, I sincerely thank you. Next month, mid-month, when our father celebrates his birthday, I’ll personally deliver the invitation to your office."

He toasted Song Mi, drank leisurely, then turned his gaze back to Wen Yanli.

By now, Wen Yanli had returned to the table, standing beside Song Mi’s seat. "Lawyer Wen, are you going to refuse for President Song again?"

Qiao Yudong’s phoenix eyes narrowed slightly, a smile lingering at the corner of his lips. As the saying goes, one doesn’t strike a smiling face. If he wished to deflect, a casual, “It’s just a joke, why so serious?” could gloss over the confrontation. If he didn’t, his teasing provocations weren’t any less provocative.

Deep tides surged in Wen Yanli’s long eyes, swift as a storm. Qiao Yudong’s attitude—if one called him out for having ulterior motives, he’d hardly mind. This was not the first, second, or even third time tonight that Wen Yanli had fought to restrain his inner turmoil. This Qiao Yudong was truly insufferable.

"Perhaps," Wen Yanli replied quickly, turning to Song Mi. His voice was low, calm, as if he often made decisions for her and their boundaries had long since blurred. "It depends on her recovery, and her company’s schedule. She’s very busy."

He glanced at Qiao Weiwei, who was so tense she seemed ready to snap. "If she can’t make it, I hope you’ll understand."

"Of course, of course, of course," Qiao Weiwei echoed hurriedly, nearly giving him a thumbs-up on the spot. This was the perfect example of deft maneuvering. "I know exactly how busy Honey is! Before today, I hadn’t seen her for half a month!"

Lawyer Wen truly had a gift for words. Not only did he deftly sidestep, he subtly flaunted their intimacy and declared his claim over her. Now, how could Qiao Yudong continue his antics?

Indeed, Qiao Yudong finally gave up, pushing his chair back and standing. "Alright."

"Qiao Weiwei, let’s take our leave."

"Yes, yes, we should go," Qiao Weiwei stood up quickly, signaling Song Mi with her eyes and urging her to rest well.

Song Mi smiled politely. "Take care. I won’t see you out."

Just before turning to leave, Qiao Yudong gave her one last look. "Rest early."

True to his impeccable manners, Wen Yanli escorted the Qiao siblings to the door. The moment the door shut, his expression darkened to its limit.

Only then did he realize that the world’s praise for his composure and elegance was, in fact, mistaken. When his obsession flared, even he feared himself.

He stood for a moment, consciously exhaling his tension before turning back toward the dining room.

Seeing him return, Song Mi’s eyes curved into crescents, sparkling as she teased, "Our Lawyer Wen is jealous!"

"Not allowed to have someone bring me medicine, not allowed to attend dinners!" Song Mi deliberately elongated her words, "So sour!"

Seeing her mood was good, the gloom in Wen Yanli’s heart dissipated. "Yes, sour!"

He was direct. When Qiao Yudong tried to provoke him, he’d simply acknowledged his interference and decision-making, completely unafraid of being mocked for possessiveness or chauvinism.

It was utterly adorable.

Song Mi gazed at his striking face, drawing closer and closer. Her heart felt like it was brushed by spring winds, her eyes softening with a hint of playful charm.

Were it not for her injury, she would have wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

But somehow, he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.

As he approached, he bent down and kissed her.

His warm lips pressed against hers, one hand gently cradling the back of her neck.

This man was always so attentive.

His kiss carried a hint of strength, as if proclaiming and proving something, a perfect balance of assertiveness and a touch of punishment.

When the kiss ended, Song Mi looked at him, "You don’t like me calling you Lawyer Wen?"

She smiled, "Then what should I call you?"

"Wen Yanli?"

"Yanli?"

"Ah Li?"

Song Mi laughed, watching him.

The frost on his face melted, his features softened, and he tapped her nose. "Want to know?"

Song Mi leaned forward and kissed his lips. "Yes."

Wen Yanli raised his brows, "Then I have one more thing to do."

Song Mi was puzzled. "?"

He stared at her for a moment, then glanced at something on the table. "Will you agree?"

Song Mi realized he meant the bouquet of Snow Mountain roses Qiao Yudong had brought. "I prefer Birds of Paradise."

When he visited her in the hospital after the accident, he'd brought a bouquet of Birds of Paradise.

She had never cared much for flowers. But since that was the first bouquet he’d given her, it was meaningful enough for her to start liking them. "Now can you tell me?"

"Not yet," he said, gently pulling away. "Wait until I’ve taken out the trash."

She could see the smile on his lips.

But now her curiosity was truly piqued.

How did he like her to address him?

Ah Li—surely the most intimate. His mother called him that. So did Lu Zhizhi, who had used that name more than once in front of Song Mi. But Song Mi knew Lu Zhizhi was being deliberate. In private, she probably didn’t always use that name—maybe only when she wanted to act coy.

Between him and Lu Zhizhi, there was nothing close to that level of intimacy. In fact, they were worlds apart.

If not "Ah Li," then what?

Surely it couldn’t be...?

As the thought flashed through her mind, his pleasant voice suddenly rang out, "Three characters."

Song Mi raised her brows. "Beloved?"

He had thrown the flowers into the bin and was now standing by the table, relaxed and domestic. His smile hovered, his gaze lingered on her, as if deliberately watching her get anxious.

Song Mi played along, furrowing her brows and acting spoiled, "Beloved, just tell me!"

After a while, he finally lifted his lips and gave the answer: "Boyfriend."

Song Mi burst into laughter. "What kind of answer is that?"

"Should I call you boyfriend in front of Qiao Yudong?" She couldn’t help but laugh. "Lawyer Wen, your tastes are certainly unique!"

She continued to tease, "You just like hearing people call you boyfriend."

Her tone was playful, her gaze affectionate.

Only then did Wen Yanli feel that the anger and frustration that had plagued him all evening had finally dissipated.

He watched her with delight, gently grasping her hand, wishing to say something, but the words remained unspoken.

No rush.

There was still plenty of time.

He had enough patience to wait for her to open her heart to him layer by layer, for everything to flow naturally, for their relationship to deepen.

…

Three days later, they returned to Jinzhou.

They chose to travel by helicopter.

Before leaving for the airport, Feng Jue came up to her room to see her.

Song Mi knew well that the helicopter and the Civil Aviation Bureau arrangements were most likely handled by Feng Jue.

She didn’t ask about it.

When a man wishes to share his family background and connections, he will tell her. If he never does, she has no desire to pry.

After all, she wasn’t planning to marry him.

For them, happiness was paramount. If they were well-matched, they would stay together; if not, they would part. If candor brought happiness, they would be candid.

Anxiousness, care, longing, jealousy, possessiveness, protectiveness—these real emotions, when expressed and reciprocated, brought happiness.

So in daily life, they were no different from ordinary lovers.

At least for now, Song Mi was satisfied.

That night, she never told him that she felt a twinge of jealousy herself when she smelled the cologne on him.

Nor did she ask how his conversation with his mother went that night. But judging from his move to her apartment upon returning to Jinzhou, it seemed the conflict hadn’t worsened.

For the following week, Song Mi worked from her apartment as usual.

He left early and returned late each day, and unless he came home very late, he would cook dinner for her himself.

The model kitchen came alive again, filled with warmth and bustle. Sometimes, Song Mi would stand at the doorway, watching him cook in silence.

More than once, she thought: if she could live like this forever, it wouldn’t be bad.

But it was impossible.

This was not the trajectory of her life.

Such peaceful, ordinary happiness was something she had long since given up, traded away.

People cannot be greedy.

She always reminded herself of this.

But she was not a switch, not a machine. After a few days of such life, she dreamed.

She dreamed of that woman.

The pitiful woman who gave her life.

She dreamed of living under someone else’s roof, struggling to survive, of needles thicker than her arm, of a flood of blood red.

In the dream, she ran desperately.

Hair wild, she fought and clawed, but was repeatedly held down and dragged back.

Then she heard a man’s voice, calling her, Honey, Honey.

She woke.

It had been years since she’d had such a dream.

When she opened her eyes, she still felt lost, but the pain in her back reminded her who she was, where she was, what she was doing, what she needed to do.

He held her shoulders, his eyes like stars guiding the lost in the night sky, his gaze fierce and all-consuming, his voice full of tenderness. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"What did you dream?"

She couldn’t find her voice for ages.

"Don’t be afraid, I’m here."

"I’ll always be here."

He gently held her hand, kissed her cheek, her lips, her forehead, her hand.

Later, she just gazed into his eyes, watching, until her eyelids drooped and she fell asleep again. After that, the people and events from her nightmare never came back.

…

On Monday, she deliberately waited until he left and another half hour had passed before getting up and preparing to leave.

After half a month away, Assistant Lin could hardly cope anymore.

But since all operations at the group ran smoothly, and the Shen family hadn’t made trouble, nothing urgent had occurred.

Except for the upcoming groundbreaking ceremony for the Western Suburb Redevelopment Project, scheduled for the day after tomorrow.

Today, she was going to the office to host a coordination meeting, finalizing the Four Seas Group’s speech for the ceremony.

At 10:25 in the morning, Song Mi entered the conference room accompanied by Ye Zhao.

As the architect of "Fang Suo," Rong Xin’an had also been invited.

The day after returning to Jinzhou, Song Mi had proposed hiring an external architect for the cultural center’s spatial design. Two days later, Assistant Lin delivered the resumes of several shortlisted candidates to her apartment.

She had seen Rong Xin’an’s name before—on Lawyer Wen’s phone—so she immediately linked the name on the resume with the incoming call notification from that evening.

And she couldn’t shake it.

But this wasn’t a case of blurring public and private matters. To be fair, Rong Xin’an’s award-winning "Fang Suo" concept from abroad had genuinely impressed her.

A week later, Assistant Lin found Rong Xin’an in "Vision" magazine.

She had just joined, and was serving as the executive director of their home design supplement, "Living with Elephants."

An award-winning architect, working as a magazine executive—it seemed a bit unorthodox.

Assistant Lin had already met with her twice to discuss their intentions. Hearing it was a civic project and that only part of her design concept would be used, plus the generous remuneration offered, Rong Xin’an had not objected.

They had reached a basic agreement.

"Chairwoman!" As Song Mi entered, everyone stood up within a minute, greeting her in unison. "Chairwoman."

"Chairwoman."

Rong Xin’an stood up as well.

After taking her seat, Song Mi glanced at Rong Xin’an’s direction with little emotion.

A white Chanel suit, classic tweed, neither too formal nor too casual—just right.

Fair-skinned and beautiful, delicate and lovely, not particularly tall, but her lively and bright temperament stood out. She was genuinely clean and fresh.

Calling her a lotus in clear water would not be an exaggeration.

With one glance, she outshone Lu Zhizhi.

Lu Zhizhi’s so-called intellectual elegance was, at best, common and lacking individuality. At worst, it was empty posturing, having forgotten the essence of a true lady.

Rong Xin’an was different. She might not seem the ideal debutante, but she possessed unique character and charm.

And judging by the "Fang Suo" concept she had designed, she was truly talented.

Song Mi had always respected real ability, and respected talent.

After sitting, she raised her hand slightly. "Everyone, please sit."

Meanwhile, Rong Xin’an’s heart was in turmoil.

The chairwoman of such a massive group was actually a girl about her own age?!

The impact was so direct, she could hardly describe it.

As a woman in architecture, she had achieved something; while not arrogant, she was at least satisfied with herself. Her journey was one she could be proud of.

But her confidence crumbled the moment Song Mi walked in.

She understood that people shouldn’t compare themselves, but this woman was Wen Yanli’s current girlfriend.

She’d heard Song Mi was the chairwoman of Four Seas Group, but hearing and seeing were worlds apart.

If ever there was a moment that pierced the heart, this was it—her first time in twenty-six years.

Once was enough.

Once was enough to sap all her fighting spirit.

How could she compete with such a woman?

With a confession he’d once rejected, and a promise that was hardly a promise?

He had agreed not to date during university, but now he’d been graduated for almost seven years.

He had skipped grades, earned a combined bachelor’s and master’s degree in law, graduating at twenty.

Seven years, and she had never summoned the courage to seek him out. Now, despite everything, she returned, only to find he had such an outstanding girlfriend.

So what was the point of her return?

In that moment, Rong Xin’an felt herself plunge into the abyss.

The meeting progressed step by step, but she felt as if she were falling, drowning in despair, everything unreal.

—"Ms. Rong, would you please elaborate on the design concept of Fang Suo?"